I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.
The other day when I bought my usual twice a month supply of Decaf Verona Coffee beans from the local Starbucks shop, the barista looked at me apologetically and said “have you heard?”. She said my favorite blend was being phased out and would soon no longer be available. This has completely disturbed my equilibrium with the world.
I immediately wrote to the “Starbucks Customer Care” website to see if they really do care…
How did it possibly happen that I became so attached to a particular brand, a specific taste, a daily routine that something so insignificant in the scheme of things should be so significant to me? I’m upset at myself for being perturbed by this.
So what if I’m in a minority of coffee drinkers who can only handle decaf because caffeine makes me jittery. So what if I’m part of an aging cohort who may not be all that important to the corporate world bent on marketing the newest taste trend to the young and fabulous. So what if I’m ridiculously dependent on that 5:30 AM home brewed cup of coffee, not because of needing a drug to wake me up, but because it is something I have done happily for years, measuring out my days spoonful by spoonful.
I am grateful for routine, and in my own grudging way, I can learn to be grateful for change. I suppose I’ll get used to another blend (please, not too “herbal” or “flowery”) if I absolutely have to. But life will not be the same.
It’s just tough to adapt when my mornings have been defined by “Decaffinated, yet rich and well-balanced with a dark cocoa texture and a roasty sweetness, like the flavor of a fire-roasted marshmallow after you pull of the darkened cap. To be enjoyed with chocolate truffles and dinner guests who stay late.” Wow, they pay people to write stuff like that. I guess it wouldn’t be as appealing to say “to be cherished with morning oatmeal by farmer physician poets who can’t handle caffeine.”
Too bad. We’re actually a pretty nice bunch. All one of us.